Once In A Lifetime
by Dramagirl42
Summary: What happened after Dru dumped Spike in Brazil? An adventure that chaged his life.
1. Chapter 1

Title – Once In A Lifetime

  
Author – Dramagirl42

  
Rating – PG-13, for violence and sensuality in later chapters

  
Spoilers – Possible S6 later on, but if you're caught up through S5 it should be okay. This story takes place immediately after "Becoming." Dru and Spike went to Brazil and things got ugly.

  
Disclaimer – All "Buffy" and "Angel" characters belong solely to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and UPN networks, Fox Broadcasting, and any number of other affiliates bound together by paperwork. Also, if you see a line, phrase, or lyric and you say "Hey, I know who said that," you are probably right and it obviously isn't mine. Because I plan on using a lot of outside, "real world" influences on the characters there is no way to disclaim them all. Just know that I mean no disrespect, only homage and don't be mad if I've got your stuff. If you are, let me know and I'll take it off.

Feedback – Yes please! This is my first FF and I need to see if it works at all. :-) Post reviews or e-mail me at ImYourTeacher@yahoo.com If you would like to be added to the update list, e-mail me as well.

Much love to my super betas, buzz and 1istner

************************************************************************

The voices kept coming as Spike floated through the blackness of unconscious. The taunts, the hideous memories of his past, recent and decades old, haunted his fitful nonconsensual sleep. The voices of those he knew, those he loved and hated the most, kept playing out and beating him down.

Dru. Slayer. Angel. Angelus. Blood. Hate. Love.

"I can see her floating all around you…you taste like ashes…"

"Sorry we didn't save any for you Spike, maybe next time…"

"I don't ever want to see you again after this Spike! If Giles dies, so does she."

Somehow through the dark veil drawn across his mind by the past he felt other presences, someone new, nearer than before, grappling with the familiar phantom voices reaching to him out of the ether.

"…would not, could not in a house. I would not, could not with a mouse…"

"Ooo Spike! Look at the wonderful mess you've made…"

"No, he's not awake yet…he's healing well, but I just don't know…"

"If I can't teach you, maybe someday an angry crowd will. That…or the Slayer."

Suddenly the voices stopped and he was stuck in the same nightmare that he had been floating in and out of since he'd lost consciousness in an ally behind a demon bar in Rio. He was chained to a wall in the courtyard of the layer he had shared with Dru and Angelus before leaving Sunnydale. Being helpless against the rising sun was torment enough, but what made this relentless saga unbearable was the fact that no matter how he twisted or tried to clench his eyes together, he was unable to escape the image of Angelus cavorting with Dru and Buffy, in mockery of the once great master vampire.

"Look William," sneered Angelus. "The only women you've ever been passionate about in the whole of your pathetic unlife…all mine!"

As he said this the reality of his statement played out; Dru, chattering about petticoats and toadstools, clung to Angelus' left arm as though she would fall through the floor if she let go, while the Slayer pressed her lithe form against his hips as he clung to her like a lascivious rag doll.

"My poor little Spike," Dru prattled. "All he wanted was a little bit of happiness and a way to put out the fires in his pockets."

"What's the matter Spike?" taunted Buffy. "Oh I know. You can't decide what's worse; not being able to kill the Slayer or not being able to kill one of Angels' girls." 

"That's what it boils down to, isn't it old man?" Angelus left the girls behind him and in full game face sauntered up to the raging, yet still restrained, Spike and whispered in his ear. "Everything you've ever had or ever been comes back to me…to what _I_ gave you."

This time around the taunts were too much for Spike to bear. With one last roar of defiance he lunged against the chains and sunk his teeth deep into Angelus' neck.

Suddenly, mid bite, his eyes were wide open and he found himself gazing into a set of wide, clear, gold flecked hazels, belonging to a girl that he had never seen before, and lying in a yellow, sun filled room he didn't remember arriving in.

"Where in bloody hell am I?" he asked, shooting upright to shield himself from the sunlight creeping up the green velvet couch he occupied, never quite managing to tear his eyes away from the radiant pools that had greeted him. "Why am I not dust?"

The owner of the eyes held his gaze in silence for an eternity of a few seconds, in which Spike felt more exposed than he had since the night Dru had sired him. She just sat next to him, perched on the edge of the cushions, staring at him. Just as he thought he would snap from the unexpected feelings of vulnerability, trepidation, and wonder, she reached out, stroked his cheek and lit up a smile so full of love that it put the loftiest machinations of Cupid to shame.

"How now mad spirit! Wither wander you?" She spoke as though she had been waiting for him in that moment for the whole of existence. "You've been out for a long time, I'm so glad you're awake again."

"I…that is…who…oh bugger" he stammered, trying to find a coherent anything in the flood of sensual input swirling through his body and mind.

"Hi William," she said as if she were greeting a long lost friend. "I'm Lydia."

"Who are you?" he sputtered. "I mean…okay, we've covered the 'you're Lydia' bit, but who are you, how do you know who I am, where are we, and is this going to melt away in a minute and be another bloody Angel vs. Spike dream montage?"

Much to his chagrin, Lydia threw her head back and warm, sweet peals of laughter, the sort of pure, joyful, unabashed laughter Spike hadn't heard in decades, filled his cold, dead ears. He inhaled deeply as her scent drifted across the couch and nearly knocked him out with its purity and intensity. She smelled like a sunrise over the city, like heat lightning that holds back summer rains, like a primal, insatiable, animal life force and like something else that was strangely familiar, yet in his daze Spike couldn't quite place it.

"And to think we were worried you wouldn't want to chat" she said through ebbing giggles and bringing Spike back to the present. "Don't sweat it babe. All you need to know right now is that you're safe and as soon as everyone gets home, you'll be surrounded with people who can help you with…well, with whatever it may be that you need help with."

"Wha…?" Spike sat dumbfounded, partially because he still had no idea where he or for that matter Dru was, but mostly because he realized he had been lying with more than half his body covered in sunlight for who knows how long and he was still in one piece. "How long have I been laying…the sun…why?"

"Why hasn't it dusted you, you mean?

"Uh, yeah…thought had crossed my mind." He was beginning to regain his undead bearings and was naturally growing suspicious of the girl who seemed to know more about him than was comfortable.

"All the windows in the house have a sort of filter between the layers of glass, "she explained. "It blocks out the UV rays and splits the light in a way that it comes into the house as safe as a street lamp. We did it when Moira moved in…okay, I can see that I'm getting way ahead of myself." She smiled at the perplexed expression in Spike's swirling eyes.

"You'll meet her tonight and by then you'll know the score a bit better than you do right now," her soft, understanding smile made the promise better than her words ever could. "In the mean time, take it on faith than the sunny beams that make it inside my house won't hurt you."

He looked at her almost pleadingly and she realized that he was lost in every sense of the word. He had just lost his sire and only love in the same night; that sort of adjustment would be hard enough without the scare of waking up 5000 miles away from where you went to sleep.

"I know this is majorly weird and you probably don't have a ton of experience in the trust department, but you have to have some for now." She gave his hand a squeeze as she stood up and moved behind the couch. Much to the surprise of them both, Spike made no effort to recoil from her touch. "Besides, you must have figured out already that if we wanted to stake you we would've done it back when we found you in Brazil." 

"But where…" he protested.

"Enough talk for now O bleached one," she said leaning over the back of the couch to speak face to face with Spike. "I know you haven't fed since we found you…my gosh…at least a week…you poor thing…you must be starving! I'll make a nice hot bit of something for you."

Up until she mentioned it, Spike hadn't really taken the time to notice his demon churning around inside, aching for blood. Now that he had he was ravenous.

"Now that you mention it, I could do with a spot of something." As he spoke he found himself eyeing Lydia as she walked around the counter denoting the start of the kitchen and, despite the dozen or so more important questions he needed answered, pondering her choice of outerwear. 

"Bloody hell," he thought to himself. "If she knows I'm a hungry vamp she should know better than to wear something that low cut and…look at that neck! She'd make a tasty comeback meal…so vibrant…pulsing…" 

"What am I saying?!? Don't know her; don't know where I am…best not to eat the only present source of information. 'Sides, anyone who starts a conversation with Shakespeare is not to be dispatched too rashly." He quickly, and a little bit guiltily, turned away from the pulsing jugular a mere 20 feet away and tried to focus on the vase of roses on the counter.

His concentration was broken by another fit of giggles in the kitchen.

"What's so funny?" Spike said, not a little indignantly.

"You!" Lydia shot back. "I never thought I'd see a master vampire feeling guilty for looking at me the way I look at the cows when I'm hungry."

"Sod it all, I was not!" Why on earth should he care what this stupid bint thought? He was William the bloody Bloody! Why was she acting as though this were a perfectly normal conversation? Why was she so familiar? Thoughts swirled in and out of his mind as he tried to focus on just one concept he could work with.  
  


"You were so, I know that look better than you'd think," she said with a cryptic smile. "In any case there is no reason to feel bad. I am what's on the menu after all."

This was too much for Spike to deal with: the days missing from his memory, unfamiliar surroundings, not knowing what had happened to Dru, and worst of all the feeling of nakedness forced upon him by this…what was she really? By all outward appearances she was human, a child even, no more than sixteen he reckoned. Her body was soft with the still developing curves of womanhood yet her eyes held a gleam of wisdom that had no place in one so young. It made him too uneasy, as though he were on the brink of something going horribly wrong.

He leapt off the couch and stormed into the kitchen with the express purpose of tying her down, finding out exactly what games were being played and by who…maybe even a snack since she seemed to be planning on that anyway. Should be fun.

"Look here pet, I don't know what you think you know, but I want answers now," he said grabbing her by the back of the neck. "I'm only gonna…oh bloody ow!"

Spike's tirade was cut short the instant his fingers tightened around her throat. Faster than he had ever seen anyone move, save the Slayer, Lydia had somehow taken him down from behind with a hook kick. She was presently kneeling between his shoulder blades, twisting his left arm against his back in a vice grip with one hand and with the other, pressing the knife she had been using to open a blood bag against his already bruised neckline.

"Dude, weak," she said in a playfully exasperated tone. "Were you just completely not paying attention when I said I was making breakfast for you? You were beaten within an inch of your unlife less than eight days ago! Vamp or not, you still count as an invalid and I'm not going to repair any more unnecessary damage you happen to get inflicted on yourself."

He was too stunned to fight back, against her physical presence or her words. Never before had he felt such power and precision from a human who wasn't a Slayer. His demon roared with the potential of a new challenge. More intense than the reaction of his demon was that of everything masculine or warrior-like in his being, suddenly ablaze with a fire he had never felt. He had never been dispatched so effortlessly and never by an ordinary human. He was further taken aback when he realized that her pulse had remained steady throughout the entire exchange and he couldn't detect even the faintest trace of fear on her.

"What are you?" he snarled incredulously, turning to meet her eyes while avoiding the edge of the blade still poised against him. "How do you even have the ability to bend for a kick like that?"

The gentle vibrations of Lydia's brewing laughter took Spike off guard. He had expected violence, a physical attack, at the very least a cutting comment in response. He had expected a Slayer's response and he didn't know why it wasn't forthcoming.

"Oi! Stop laughing! For the love of…oh come on!"

As she released his arm and gently turned him over to face her, Spike made the choice that would define the rest of his existence, though at the time he had no way of knowing.

"Well mate, this is a new experience," he thought to himself as he looked up into her eyes. "Bird could've killed me twice and didn't. Dru tried, Slayer tried, maybe three times a charm…Alright, I'm as helpless as I've ever been, don't have a home to go back to, Dru loathes me, no minions, she's got blood and she smells…well…intriguing and invigorating. "

She was still sitting on him; only she had shifted onto the balls of her feet so she was delicately resting on his stomach. Her laughter grew in its intensity until it tickled Spike fiercely and sealed his decision.

"Oh bugger! You've got me," he said, allowing a broad, happy smile of resignation to spread across his face for the first time since he'd met the Slayer. The past year had been physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. If he was going to be offed, he thought, he might as well go out relaxed and enjoying himself.

"See? That wasn't as hard as you thought it would be, was it?"

"S'pose not…I mean, you don't have the strength of the Slayer, but you still pack a wallop." 

"That's not what I meant, but thanks all the same." Was she actually blushing?

"Come on sweets," she said, rising and offering Spike a hand up. "You need to eat and I don't think you've taken the time to notice how beaten up you are. You had three cracked ribs! …geez I hope I didn't fracture them again…I did the best I could, but even with the super guy, quick healing thing, you're still in less than your prime. Besides, I still owe you a heap of explaining."

"Right. Also, I believe you promised me a meal and since I've not been allowed near your neck, that sack of blood on the counter must be for me."

"Well aren't you witty when you're not sucking people dry?" 

"Look pet, I am a very old, very confused, very battered, very hungry vampire who is feeling all of these things more than he ever has in over than a century of unlife. I'm going along with your little 'trust me' thing and I'm sure once we have a chat I'll feel more like myself, but right now I just want to feed and get my bleedin' head straight."

"I can dig it," she said with an understanding nod. "Make yourself comfortable at the table. The bottle warmer will only take a few minutes to heat up the blood."

Spike sat down in a yellow cushioned dining chair when Lydia directed him to the breakfast nook across the room and for the first time since he regained consciousness became fully aware of his surroundings.

He had been lying on a large, over stuffed green velvet couch in what seemed to be a living room of sorts. Everything in the room revolved around the entertainment center and the fireplace; two couches with matching pillows, a La-Z-Boy recliner covered with a worn pale green and yellow comforter, and child sized, blue and white fold out love seat surrounded by coloring books, crayons, a small stuffed aardvark and a foot high stack of books. 

Every other available surface was covered in photos; some were of single people, but most of them held no less that 7 people. It didn't matter what they were doing, Spike couldn't have cared less, what cut him to the quick were the looks of unbridled joy on the faces in every single picture. He felt like some sort of peeping Tom, looking into the windows of the souls of strangers, left with the impression that they had something he wanted. 

An end table, set where his head would've been while he was laying down, was scattered with bandages, ointments, a half drunk glass of water, and what appeared to be a dog eared copy of _Hamlet_.

It was as he was straining to confirm the identity of the book that he realized that music was filling the air, like a long lost auditory memory suddenly springing to life unexpectedly.

"Uh…s'cuse me, Lydia?" he spoke almost as tentatively as he had when he was William, as though the slightest misstep would make everything fade away.

"Yeah?" she said as she leaned over the counter separating her from the befuddled vampire.

"Who is this?"

"The music? Coltrane," she smiled, the very act of speaking his name bringing her pleasure. "It's 'My Favorite Things.' Like it?"

"I haven't heard this in so long…" his eyes glazed over with a mix of wonder and melancholy in his reminiscing as he leaned into the music. "I used to go to the jazz clubs in Harlem to hear this…Dru doesn't really like newer things, didn't get to go often…wow…"

He shook himself as he realized what he was doing, drawing back into his usual defensive pose and scowl. As he did something moved in the corner of his eye. He spun around, upsetting the chair in the process, ready to disembowel any attackers.

Instead of the stake-bearing Slayer he was expecting to see, Spike found himself on front of floor to ceiling bay windows overlooking an expanse of countryside filled with a classic red barn, horses galloping across the hills, cherry trees heavy with their blood red fruit, cows contentedly chewing cud in the morning sun, and green, green as far as he could bear to look.

"Where am I," he whispered to himself in awe.


	2. Chapter 2

Title – Once In A Lifetime

  
Author – Dramagirl42

  
Rating – PG-13, for violence and sensuality in later chapters

  
Spoilers – Possible S6 later on, but if you're caught up through S5 it should be okay

  
Disclaimer – All "Buffy" and "Angel" characters belong solely to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and UPN networks, Fox Broadcasting, and any number of other affiliates bound together by paperwork. Also, if you see a line, phrase, or lyric and you say, "Hey, I know who said that," you are probably right and it obviously isn't mine. Because I plan on using a lot of outside, "real world" influences on the characters there is no way to disclaim them all. Just know that I mean no disrespect, only homage and don't be mad if I've got your stuff. If you are, let me know and I'll take it off.

Feedback – Yes please! This is my first FF and I need to see if it works at all. :-) Post reviews or e-mail me at ImYourTeacher@yahoo.com If you would like to be added to the update list, e-mail me as well.

Special thanks to buzz and 1istner, my beautiful, witty, sassy-as-all-get-out beta readers.

************************************************************************

Spike stood dumbfounded. For the first time since the day he had been sired, he was fully engulfed in sunlight. He stared out the windows, drinking in sights he had been denied for a more than a hundred years, reliving memories of easier, happier times. 

"Soup's on," Lydia's voice brought him back to the present and the table. "You're jumpier than I expected. Sit down, have some blood, get your bearings, and I'll fill you in on anything you want."

"Right," he said slouching into his chair. 

He studied her as she finished preparing whatever it was she was preparing. She was roughly his height, with a soft, curvy body and long golden-brown hair that hung loosely braided to a point just above her waist. Almost child-like, she padded across the hardwood floor barefoot. As innocent as she appeared to be, she had an air of unquestionable strength, as though nothing could hold sway in her world without her permission. She wore faded gray sweats cut off at mid-thigh and a flowing, lilac blouse with a scooped neck. Both articles of clothing, although decidedly ordinary, only worked to accentuate her smooth, shapely legs and plump breasts. To Spike, it appeared as though she was clad in the robes of a queen and he found himself staring at her. 

Their eyes briefly met as she turned slightly and looked his way. The first thing he had seen upon waking were her eyes. They had been filled with such caring and concern that even now when she wasn't facing him, he could still feel her empathy for him. It emanated from the very creaminess of her skin, the gentle rose of her cheeks and the deep pink of her lips that always carried a trace of a smile. She now stood frozen for a moment, holding two bowls, eyes closed and head bowed.

Lydia opened her eyes again and set a bowlful of red liquid and a small plate of Saltines in front of him, and placed similar looking bowl and plate at the seat opposite.

"And this is…?" Spike asked, skimming the surface suspiciously with his spoon.

"Blood!" she said with a patient smile. "Geez, if this is any indication of your level of intelligence I'm amazed you've stayed alive as long as you have."

"Funny," he responded wryly. "What I mean to say is, there isn't any extra ingredient that'll make me grow hair in odd places or turn me into a barnyard animal or what all?"

"Not a thing," she said. "Just a good old-fashioned, home-cooked bowl of Lydia blood, AB positive."

"Alright," he said, curious as to why she had bags of her own blood lying around. "If I've got blood, what've you got?"

"Tomato soup," she said, swirling a piece of cracker in the center of the bowl. "I'm human. I need my vitamin C."

"That's one question down," Spike thought as he raised the spoon to his lips. "I'm too bleedin' tired to try and figure this all out…best to just go with it for now."

He swallowed the first spoonful and was filled with warmth, infusing his aching limbs with strength and clearing his mind of all extraneous thoughts. He didn't let on how much of an effect her blood was really having on him.

"Not bad pet," he said. "Not the liveliest meal I've had, but it's giving me a bit of my own back."

"I thought it would," she said, starting in on her own food. 

Without thinking, Spike picked up his bowl and in two long, smooth gulps, swallowed the rest of the blood before Lydia had taken a single bite. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and leaned back in his chair, thoroughly satisfied.

"Wow," said Lydia, her spoon poised in front of her lips. "I've never seen anyone chug from a bowl before. You drink like Falstaff."

"Yeah?" he said with a half-smile. "Let's hope I don't start to look like him. Fangs or no fangs, fat, dirty old men don't really inspire horror now do they?"

"Are you kidding?" she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Next time a paunchy, sweaty forty year old starts hitting on you at the bar see how fast you move towards a bouncer."

"Point taken pet," he said, upgrading his half-smile to an amused smirk.

 "Dirty old men aside for the moment, I was wondering if you remember anything that happened immediately before you came to," she said, resting her chin on her hands in front of her.

"We playin' twenty questions now, love?" Spike said with a smirk. "Alright, what do you want to know?"

"Ooo, I'm good at that game! Is it a breadbox?" she said with a goofy grin. "But seriously…what's the last thing you remember before you woke up?"

He paused for a moment. What did he remember?

"It's kinda fuzzy," he said, brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Dru and that damn chaos demon, I bloody well remember that. And the bit in the bar, guy came into my bar with his buddies…wankers…I remember being out in the alley, getting' ready for a spot o' violence. The rest is kind of dark."

"Well that's good," she said, relief washing over her face. "We found you about then, so I can fill you in on everything that happened post savage beating."

"You mean you knew what's going on already?" he asked, shocked that he had surrendered that much information so easily. It felt too natural to lead to anything good.

"Not entirely, but that's never stopped me before." Spike studied her intently as she started to eat again, and still couldn't place her anywhere in his past. Why was she so bloody familiar?

"Okay luv," he said, pushing aside the now empty bowl, his demon satiated, and leaning across the table, trying to look ferocious. "I'm feeling like my old evil self again…my turn to be grand inquisitor."

She started laughing…again.

"Hey," he said, leaning back, thoroughly annoyed. "Evil bloodsucking vampire here! I'm not bloody 'Punch and Judy.'"

"I'm sorry," she said with a smile of mock contrition. "We don't really do the whole fear thing around here, so sinister things tend to amuse me."

"What kind of disturbing, human freak show have I fallen into?" he asked, annoyance bordering on bewilderment.

"Michigan," Lydia said, curling her legs onto the chair and smiling faintly, "Hoffsburg, Michigan to be precise. Not freaky exactly, but do we have a Hellmouth, three fairly good Chinese restaurants, and a totally bitchin' punk scene."

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said, relaxing slightly at the mention of a Hellmouth and punk. "How'd I get here?"

"I brought you here," she said simply.

"You're gonna have to do better than that," Spike was too tired to put the effort into a good sarcastic response.

"I know, I was just teasing you a bit," Lydia replied, her eyes reflecting the sunlight with a warm glow. "I was in Brazil tracking down some chaos demons that have been disrupting our construction projects. I was out searching the demon bars with a couple of the guys who could ID them. We went into one of the bars and saw a group of them go out through the back. We followed them into the alley and found them pummeling you."

Spike winced as memories of the "fight" came flooding back. Too drunk, angry, and heartbroken to fight them properly, it had not been his finest hour. 

"They were the same demons who had been messing up my stuff," she continued. "We kicked the slime out of them in a few minutes. I mean, I recognized you right away, but if I had known what kind of shape you were in I would've killed them sooner. I'm really sorry about that. Anyway, I knew you'd probably end up in the sun or being used as target practice by the other drunks peeing in the alley, so we took you back to the plane, patched you up, and brought you here. I didn't want to leave you all open and vulnerable like that." 

She smiled, reminiscing; Spike was taken aback. She seemed so pure; she looked like any number of girls he and Dru had shared over the years. Yet there she was, sitting in a nice, cozy kitchen in the middle of Michigan, eating tomato soup and talking about killing demons as though it was the natural course of life. He could almost see himself liking a girl like this, as long as she didn't turn into a Slayer. He was so focused on her story that he failed to notice that she claimed to have recognized him.

"So why did you bring me here?" Spike asked.

"What do you mean, 'why?'" she said, somewhat surprised. "You were hurt, you needed help, and there was no way Drusilla would've done it after the way she treated you."

"How'd you know about Dru?" he asked, springing to his feet, defensive. "How do you know who I am? What're you playing at, girl?"

"Spike, sweetie, relax," she said in a soothing voice, not even flinching. "My best friend is the goddaughter of a Watcher. We used to read through copies of the diaries. I know about your history, about Drusilla and Angelus, about the Slayers you've killed, lots of stuff. When we found you I recognized you right away, like I said. I wanted to know what they were beating you up for, so I beat it out of one of them."

Spike was dumbfounded. He stood before her, unable to process what he was hearing. She knew him? She's a demon killer, but not a Slayer? She knows exactly who and what he is…and she didn't kill him?

"Are you going to be alright?" she asked. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I guess I'm just used to people knowing all about me, so I didn't think it'd freak you out like this."

"I'm…I'll be…I mean bloody hell woman!" he shouted. "Layin' this on a guy all at once is a bit heavy! You haven't even really explained who the hell you are!"

"Fair enough," she said perking up. "I can do that, if you're willing to get back on the couch for a while. You are way too riled up, you need to relax."

"S'long as I'm gonna get filled in," he said with a sigh of resignation.

Lydia got up, took his hand, and led him back to the couch he had been laying on when he woke up. Spike was far too dazed to protest. He lay down, propped up with extra pillows from the other couch, and she gently tucked a light blanket around his body. Her movements entranced him as she settled into the recliner at the end of the couch; she moved softly and deftly, not wasting a single motion.

"Are you comfy?" she asked, scooping up the stuffed aardvark he had seen earlier.

"I'm good," he said, relaxing and readying himself to take in as much as possible.

"Faboo. I guess I'll just start with the basics," she said, leaning back into the overstuffed cushiness of her chair. "I'm Lydia Marie Hartford. I'll be seventeen in two weeks and I go to school here in town at the high school and part time at U of M, Flint. My best friend, Moira, lives with me and we take care of a little girl named Lillian whose mother was killed last fall by a drunk driver. Oh," Lydia said almost as an afterthought, "Moira is a vampire too." She paused with one eyebrow lifted, waiting for a reaction from Spike. 

"Sounds like bloody Never Never Land," Spike quipped dryly. "Aren't there any adult types lurking about?"

"Not any more," Lydia said sadly. "When the Hellmouth opened up three years ago, no one understood what was going on…this is Michigan farm country…we have cherries, beaches, lakes…not vampires and demons. People kept dying and nobody knew why. But, when Moira came to live with us, she figured out what was going on in about a week. She was raised around this sort of thing, you see. Her godfather is a Watcher. Isn't it ironic, don't you think? We found her and she found us and now we are so happy." Lydia smiled at Spike and he responded by raising his eyebrows. "Not a big 'School House Rock' or Alanis fan I see." Lydia said wryly. "Well, anyway, she told us everything about vamps and other ghoulies, showed us how to kill them and eventually everyone in my family started patrolling. After a month or so, the people from church saw what was going on and we organized." 

She chuckled wistfully, thinking about the chaotic first months of her family's patrolling. "Makes sense so far?"

"Yeah, so far," Spike said softly, engrossed and almost eager to find out what kind of place had churches that openly hunted vampires. He was still completely at a loss as to why she was telling him so much in the first place.

"Everyone saw it as a direct attack, on us, on God, on our town…righteous indignation can be a deadly catalyst," she said with a smirk. "There were enough people in moms' Hapkido class already good enough to fight in teams, but we had to have more people involved. We couldn't handle it all by ourselves. It's their town too right? In a nutshell, we spent the next few months doing physical and weapons training classes for people who wanted to start patrolling, and all the churches did major work with spiritual warfare preparations. We…"

"Wait just one sodding minute," Spike cut her off. "You meant to tell me that I've somehow landed myself in the middle of some kind of bloody holy rolling boot camp town?

"Holy rolling boot camp," Lydia said with a thoughtful smile. "You know, I like the sound of that."

"So what do you do," he said with a sneer. "Say ten 'Hail Mary's,' swing some incense around and stake everything in sight?"

"Wow, you really are out of touch," she replied. "When was the last time you went to church?"

"You mean for something other than a quick meal?" he asked snarkily.

"No, I'm serious," she said. "I think you've got our stuff confused with 'religion.' I'm talking about being plugged into the power of God, whomping on the forces of evil, keeping our town safe, and allowing the majority of people here to live fairly normal lives, without a bunch of archaic rituals. It's really not that complicated."

"Right then," he said, temporarily conceding the point and beginning to scheme for his escape from this sanity free burg. "Go on."

"Things were going fine until all the big league vamps got driven out of Prague," her voice tapered off slightly until she snapped out of her reverie. "Some hotshot master vamp decided he wanted Hoffsburg, a nice, quiet, cozy Hellmouth he called it, and my family was in the way since they were the ones who started the war…so he killed them." She tried to shrug her statement off, not wanting to let Spike see how much it affected her, but she failed miserably. "One of his minions planted a bomb in the car and…" she stopped, unable to continue. 

She sat silently for a few minutes, clinging to the stuffed aardvark she had scooped up. Tears streamed down her cheeks and the transformation from the strong, collected woman he had just seen to this scared little girl startled him. He remembered how frail Dru had been during her sickness and how Lydia appeared the same. He tried to ignore the surge of compassion he felt for her, but the look on her face made his heart ache. 

As he watched her cry, Spike realized that he had never stayed around long enough to see how anyone who knew his meals reacted. Death, blood, and mayhem were fun. They weren't supposed to make a beautiful creature like that break down into tears. He didn't know whether he wanted to stroke her hair and soothe her, or slit her throat for making him care. The fact the master in question had most likely been with him in Prague didn't make it any easier.

"Who was it?" he asked, softly, breaking the silence.

"Who was who?" she said through sniffles.

"The master who killed your family," he said. "I was in Prague about that time too, so…"

"Oh…" she said, trying to regain her composure. "Lucius. He said his name was Lucius."

"Oh bloody hell pet, I'm sorry," he said, truly meaning it. "I've known him for decades…he's a lunatic even by vampire standards."

"Was," she whispered. "He was a lunatic. I killed him."

"You?" he was stunned. "You're a child, a human child. You're barely old enough to be a Slayer! How did you take out a five hundred year old master like Lucius?"

"He killed my mommy and I wanted his head," she said in a cold, detached voice that gave Spike a slight chill, "so I found his lair and cut it off. Simple as that."

The cloud of pain passed over her face, she wiped away her tears, and once again she wore the gentle smile that put him at ease.

"Things are better now," she said, looking more tired than she had before. "The community pretty much runs its own patrolling units now, so I don't have to worry about scheduling and training anymore. I have more time for school, my dancing, and Lillian, all the normal teenage things." Her eyes flashed a hint of sadness as she finished.

They sat in silence for a time, regarding each other, neither one able to read the emotions of the other.

"Well…" Spike said, once more breaking the quiet. "Sounds like you've had a time of things. Where exactly do I fit into all this?"

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead," Lydia admitted. "I just knew you were in trouble and I wanted to help."

"Let me get this straight," Spike said, still trying to wrap his mind around her train of logic. "You fight vampires on a Hellmouth because of some holiness trip. You understand how they work. You found a master vampire broken and bloodied in an alleyway, and then not only do you give him medical attention, but you fly him thousands of miles to stay in your home?!?"

"Oh good," she said grinning. "You do understand. I was afraid…"

"What do you mean understand?" he roared. "I don't get one sodding bit of it! You say live with a vampire? Where is she? You know things about me…that you just shouldn't know! You're parents are dead and you don't have any adults around? Bollocks! I'm gonna get the truth if I have to kill you!"

With that he lunged across the couch intent on pinning Lydia to the floor. Unfortunately, the ball of her foot smashed into his throat and sent him sprawling onto the floor.

To be continued in the next chapter…


	3. Chapter 3 - All in the Family

Title – Once In A Lifetime

  
Author – Dramagirl42

  
Rating – PG-13, for violence and sensuality in later chapters

  
Spoilers – Possible S6 later on, but if you're caught up through S5 it should be okay

  
Disclaimer – All "Buffy" and "Angel" characters belong solely to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and UPN networks, Fox Broadcasting, and any number of other affiliates bound together by paperwork. Also, if you see a line, phrase, or lyric and you say, "Hey, I know who said that," you are probably right and it obviously isn't mine. Because I plan on using a lot of outside, "real world" influences on the characters there is no way to disclaim them all. Just know that I mean no disrespect, only homage and don't be mad if I've got your stuff. If you are, let me know and I'll take it off.

Feedback – Yes please! This is my first FF and I need to see if it works at all. :-) Post reviews or e-mail me at ImYourTeacher@yahoo.com

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"Would you cut that out!" she said standing over him, now totally exasperated. "I haven't hurt you at all, well, except for this and the thing in the kitchen…and I don't particularly want to. I'm not the Slayer. I don't have a life-long calling to kill every last one of your kind, and quite frankly, I hate all the vacuuming involved in dusting someone indoors. So stop spazzing out already!"

Once more, Spike was completely flabbergasted.

"Why do you keep doing that?" he asked, trying to get back on his feet and quell his wholly unwelcome arousal.

"Because you keep doing it first!" she replied, throwing her hands in the air. "You have plenty of blood in you, you're not dead, you're not being tortured, and in case you hadn't noticed, you're nails are done! Would I have put forth that much effort if I was going to waste time lying to you or trying to kill you?!?"

"Just a sec now pet," he said, sitting back down on the floor thoughtfully.

Up until this point Spike had been too overwhelmed to take the time to give himself a once over. He decided that now was as good a time as any. 

Immediately he looked at his nails; the last time he saw them they were chipped, jagged, and the polish was all but gone. He inspected them and found that they had been trimmed, filed, and repainted with new, sleek, black enamel. Even though his duster had been removed, the rest of his clothes were the same as he had worn in Brazil, but they had been cleaned of the blood and demon slime. The tears and gashes in the fabric had disappeared, with only the tiniest lines of stitches left as proof that they had ever existed. As he prodded his body to assess the damage he found himself wrapped expertly in bandages and his wounds as neatly stitched as his clothing.

As he pored over himself more closely, he noticed that Lydia said nothing; she just stood, arms folded, watching him explore. 

"Well?" she said, breaking his reverie. "Are you satisfied?"

"Yeah," he replied in a bright, surprised tone. "You fixed me up right well. I wasn't expecting this kind of service."

"Manners much?" Lydia said with a teasing smile. "What about an 'oh thank you for not letting my die Lydia,' or 'gee, you did a great job on my nails Lydia.' I tell you, some creatures of the night…"

"Listen to you!" he said, grinning up at her. "Acting like me not eating you isn't thanks enough."

Her countenance suddenly became somber and she knelt next to him, her delicate hands resting atop one another on his knee. She brushed a stray lock behind her ear as she stared into his eyes, once more making him wish he had something to hide behind.

"Spike, listen to me," she said in a level voice. "You not eating me is nothing to get excited about. I don't think you fully appreciate the position you're in."

"What? Sprawled on a floor?" he said glibly, uncomfortable with the serious tone she was taking. "Wanting a bit of a thrill are you?"

"Don't be cheeky, this is serious," she said, unable to hide her amusement behind a stern look. "You have a chance that not many people, let alone vampires have. You can start a new life here; however you want it to be…don't you get it? You have a clean slate! People in this town don't know anything about you…except for Moira, me, and a handful of others anyway. There's no Dru, no Angelus, you aren't beholden to anyone for your identity. You can be whoever you want to be, and believe it or not, there are people here who care what happens to you, me being the least of them. Don't get me wrong, I really like the whole black leather, rebel without a cause, street brawling thing. It's sexy, and it definitely works on you. But there is a lot more that can go with it."

"Sod off," he said, genuinely unnerved, unsure of what she was suggesting. "What makes you think I'd want to change a thing? I've got a bloody amazing life: I take what I want, get to see the world, kill important people…"

"Oh sure," she said, crossing her legs and leaning back on her palms, "that's why you were drunker than a frat boy during Homecoming week and fighting demons over a woman who treats you like something I'd shovel out of the stables."

"You don't know anything about it," he said dejectedly. "I love Dru more than...why do you even care?"

"I don't know, I just do," she said simply. "I guess…I always read the stories about you and thought that there was a lot more than what was on those pages."  
  


"Yeah, well, there is," Spike said, melancholy seeping through his bravado. "Doubt you'd understand a lick of it girl."

"My family is dead," she said softly. "I understand losing people you love better than most."

"She didn't even have the decency to kill me," Spike sobbed. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the pain of losing Dru, and without sweet, numbing alcohol to cover the pain he broke down. "I bloody saved her life, twice, and as soon as we're safe she starts carrying on with wanker demons! I did everything I could for her for a hundred years and it wasn't enough to keep her. I'm not monster enough for her anymore…all she could see was the Slayer she said…bloody fool I am."

Without a moment of hesitation, Lydia slid across the floor and scooped Spike up in her arms, gently rocking him and stroking his hair, never speaking or shushing, just holding him and letting him cry, long and hard. He clung to her waist and buried his head in the softness of her shoulder. He cried out a myriad of tales of Drusilla's betrayals and infidelities despite his best efforts to love her, each one making Lydia more furious, although Spike couldn't tell; he was too focused on the 'why' and the 'how' of his broken heart. 

They sat on the floor together for hours. At times, when he would recant particularly cruel episodes, she would cry with him, silent tears of empathy rolling down her cheeks and splashing onto his. Through the pain and desperation, he felt something new stirring inside. It was too small and faint to give a name to, but at that moment, he felt as though he had a chance. What chance he didn't know, but whatever it was, it kept him from losing all hope.

"I just don't know what I'm gonna do," Spike said as the last tear he had left rolled down his cheek. Exhausted, he lay back against the couch. "She was my world and now she's gone."

"I know Spike," Lydia said soothingly. "It's stupid and it's unfair and it's wrong, but it's what you have to deal with. But you're not alone now, you don't have to deal with it by yourself."

They sat looking into each other's eyes; Lydia saw pain, confusion, and fear, while Spike saw concern, wisdom, and surprising to him, love. She smiled at him sweetly and he found that he was relieved to see her smile again.

"As soon as we're sure you're in decent shape, you can come out patrolling with me if you want," she said, trying to lighten his spirits. "You'll start to feel better once you've beaten the fangs out of a few fledges."

"You amaze me," he replied, in awe of her ability to read his mind. "I was just thinking about…are you sure that…"

"Hey Lyds," came a lilting Irish voice from another room, breaking their rapport. Spike's senses flared at another vampire presence. He noted that her accent was thicker than the pouf's used to be. "We're home and we've got munchies."

"Lydia, guess what?" interjected another, much younger, more excited voice. "Brooke gave me a coloring book about the Shakespeare Festival that she and her mommy bought for me when they went to Canada to see 'As You Like It' and 'My Fair Lady' last weekend and they got me crayons from Canada too!" Spike could hear that the owner of the second voice was hopping around while speaking; and judging by the syncopated thumps, she was removing shoes.

Lydia's face lit up in the instant she heard them and, after giving Spike a quick peck on the cheek, she leapt up and practically sprinted out of sight behind the counter to greet the new arrivals.

"Welcome home precious'," Lydia said, her voice radiating adoration. Spike wished that he could see into the kitchen and catch the look on her face. From the sound of things, she was in the process of hugging someone very tightly. "Oh, I love you so much!"

"I love you too," the smaller voice replied. "Did you have a fun day? I did. I got to be It first for 'Duck, Duck, Goose,' and Elsie gave me some of her raspberries at snack time and Moira stopped to get us Buffalo wings in the way home."

"Sounds like you've had a full day already sweetie!" she replied. "It's going to get better though. I've got a surprise for you; guess who woke up a few hours ago?"

"Spike? Really? Oh joy, oh joy," cried the small, bubbly voice from behind the counter. "This is a most joyous day!"

Spike suddenly found himself with a tiny human girl leaping into his lap, wrapping herself around his neck, raining fluttery kisses on his face, and beaming a smile so warm it would've made a glacier melt, let alone his heart. Her amber eyes shone with love the same way Lydia's did, only hers were inexperienced at softening the emotion; Spike knew the instant he looked into them that she adored him unconditionally.

"Dieu, père, vous remercier pour le réveiller lui," she said, her face radiating unfathomable joy. "Maintenant vous et moi pouvons jouer! Vous me liriez maintenant?"

"Bébé," Lydia said with a warm smile. "Parler anglais. Il ne parle pas français."

"Oui je sanglant bien fait," Spike replied indignantly, not even realizing how much he had just let slip. He was too entranced by the bundle of energy in his lap to care. "But why do you pet?"

"Hee hee hee," she giggled. "I like you, you're funny. I'm Lillian. I'm four years old and I can do a somersault all by myself, watch!"

Watch he did, as Lillian did somersault after somersault across the hardwood floor, gleefully oblivious to the fact that her green sundress had ridden up, exposing her Sesame Street underwear, and her fat, black curls were picking up dust bunnies every time her head bumped into a piece of furniture. He couldn't help but smile at the abandon with which she tumbled. He hadn't had a child behave that way in front of him in longer than he cared to remember. Freakishly enough, he was rather enjoying it.

"Well now," Spike said with a half smile, letting Lillian take his mind away from his pain for a moment. "You're a right talented little thing aren't you?"

"Little?!?" she snapped, coming out of a tuck and standing in front of him, her tiny fists balled and thrust onto her hips in unexpected anger. "'Little' again! Nothing but 'low' and 'little!' Why will you suffer him to flout me thus?" Her eyes practically spouted little flames as she glared, switching from Spike to Lydia and back. He tried his best not to laugh; he knew she was going for ferocious, but she was cuter than ever. He was definitely going to like this one.

"Whoa there chica," Lydia interjected, scooping the perturbed Lillian into her arms. "Where did this come from? I know you're upset when you start reciting. What's going on?"

"Everyone keeps telling me how little I am," Lillian hiccupped, her anger melting into preschool hurt in an instant. "I can't use Anne's pogo stick or make cookies or have a cubby hole on the top row because I'm too little and everyone keeps rubbing my nose in it. It's not fair. And Spike shouldn't say things like that, it's not nice."

Spike smiled inwardly that this girl had actually expected him to be nice. He had been of course; he didn't mean to make her so pouty…she was so adorable when she was though. The look on her face reminded him of how Drusilla looked when he wouldn't let her have her way immediately. Dru! The pain cut deep, but not quite as deep as it had when she first dumped him. Whatever these girls were doing to make him feel more at ease, he wasn't going to stop them, not just yet. Not until he could think about Dru without wanting to scream.

"First of all love," Lydia began gently, "compared to Spike you are little and he didn't mean anything by it. He was being very friendly, giving you a compliment, and you got mad because of how you felt, not because of him being mean. Secondly, you do things that some grown-ups never get to do and size has nothing to do with it. All that aside, that was really rude. He's a guest and an adult that you've been properly introduced to."

"She's right pet," Spike didn't know why he was saying anything, but he was. "Was rude, but most people don't have the stones to get in my face like that. You've got 'em in spades. I'm impressed."

Lillian smiled shyly, her eyes cooling, looking more like a normal little girl than the spitfire he had been face to face with a moment ago.

"I know," she said as she nuzzled into Lydia's shoulder, much the same way Spike had been not ten minutes earlier. "I'm sorry Spike.  Are you tired still? I can show you my room and help you wake up. You can meet Zaphod!"

"Wow," said the girl with the brogue, stepping out from behind the refrigerator and guzzling a glass of water between words. "I think that's the most exciting 'first five minutes home' we've had in a long while."

This one was slightly shorter than Lydia, but in the first few seconds Spike could see that she must have trained in ways similar to Lydia's. The loose white tank top she wore over a yellow sports bra revealed the rippling muscles in her arms and back. Her black bike shorts accentuated the smooth, bulging muscles in her thighs. As she sauntered towards them she walked with the same precision Lydia had. If this was the vamp he'd been promised, he was not disappointed.

She walked around the couch and rested on the arm nearest to Spike. Lydia, still cradling Lillian, flopped down next to her and accepted a kiss. She regarded him for a moment before lighting up a smile, just like Lydia and Lillian had, and thrusting her hand out.

"Greetings and salutations Spike ol' boy," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Moira Coneely, patrol leader, co-mum to Lil, practice Slayer, ballerina, marketing major, and family vampire. Pleased to finally meet you face to face mate."

"So you do exist," Spike replied with a smirk, shaking her hand and rising to his feet. "Thought you were a phantom for a while there pet. Didn't expect you to be a Mick like Peaches though. So, how do you get to go outside during the day?"

"Well you like to cut through the bollocks don't you?" Moira laughed, tossing her curly red hair back, accentuating her pale white skin. "I like you already. You're much better looking than the diary sketches made you out to be too."

"Can I take Spike to see my room now?" Lillian interjected impatiently. "You can show each other your fangs and how Moira doesn't explode outside later."

"You are just Empress Interrupto today," Lydia admonished. "Mo, do you want to help me get lunch ready before you hop in the shower, leave them to the grand tour?"

"Righto," she said taking Lillian onto her lap for a quick hug. "You can show him all the upstairs except for our rooms. Is his room ready yet?"

"My room?" Spike thought. "Guy could get used to a place like this."

"Oh yeah," Lydia said. "I had the sheets and towels done yesterday. It should all be relaxed and groovy."

"In that case," she said, beaming down at Lillian. "You can show Spike his room too."

"Yippee!" Lillian screeched as she leapt up into Spike's arms, nearly knocking him over. "Vamos señor!"

The next thing he knew, Spike found himself climbing a set of stairs with his arms full of Lillian, who was currently giving him the fullest possible description of why she likes spicy Buffalo wings as much as she does while she played with a lock of his hair.

"You have very pretty hair," she said, bouncing between topics as only a four year old can. "It looks like a marshmallow that's just started getting toasted."

"Oi," he protested, holding her out in front of him like a hard to decipher manuscript. "I don't look anything like a marshmallow! I'm an evil vampire, I was the scourge of Europe, and I generally make appetizers of things like you. I'm about as non-marshmallowy as you can get."

"Oh Spike," she giggled, wriggling around to bear hug his arm. "You make me laugh. You're cute when you're pouty too."

"Bloody hell," he thought as he tucked her back into the crook of his arm and continued up the stairs. "So this is what you've been reduced to mate? Arguing with a tyke like this over how evil you are. Why am I carrying her? She's got her own sodding legs. I mean she's not that adorable…bugger." 

To be continued in the next chapter…


End file.
